Lost Wings
by FalalalaLa
Summary: Fate... destiny... a red string perhaps? Whatever it was called, Italy didn't care. Whether or not they were suppose to meet, Italy didn't know, nor did he really want to think about it. They had met after all and he wouldn't change that for the world.


They had met because of fate.

Fate... destiny... a red string perhaps? Whatever it was called, Italy didn't care. Whether or not they were suppose to meet, Italy didn't know, nor did he really want to think about it. They had met after all and _he wouldn't change that for the world_.

Thinking back to the time they spent together, it almost seemed… _surreal_. So _dreamlike_ how he entered into his life… and yet so sudden like the sun popping out of a dark, grey painting.

Italy had been _so lonely _in that mansion. Even though Hungary would come and spend time with him every so often to sing and do other fun things, and Austria would show up (even if it was just to scold him about something he did wrong), it wasn't enough. There was still this large hole in his heart. A place wanting to be filled... When Holy Roma entered their lives… his life… everything changed.

Everyone was happier, the world was more colourful, and _it made everything seem right with him there_.

They spent a lot of time together. Whether it be painting or playing outside, _they were inseparable_. Each moment, spent with one another, never letting go…

_But he did let go_, that Holy Roma. Left, without a word given to Italy about his whereabouts or what exactly he was going to do.

_And that left him so heartbroken_.

Italy had cried and cried _and cried_. He kept crying until Hungary could calm him down enough… it took weeks to help stop Italy from crying in the daylight. But at night... every night though… his heart _ached_ for Holy Roma.

Holy Roma… though he was scary at times, he was kind… thoughtful… and very giving to Italy. Whenever Italy needed something, Holy Roma was there to give. Even if it was a shoulder to cry on because he had gotten yelled at once again for following stray cats or just to give Italy some flowers from the garden, Holy Roma was there. Protecting him in a way…

But that wasn't the case then. Isn't the case now. Holy Roma left after what seemed like such a short time with Italy. What Italy wouldn't give to spend just another day with him. Just one day he could fulfill everything he ever wanted to say and more… but it was too late. After Holy Roma left… he never came back.

Never sent any letters, never tried to come and see how Italy was doing. _Nothing._

_Why?_

Why had Holy Roma left without saying where and what he was doing? Was it so troublesome to the point where trying to contact Italy seemed impossible?

The tears… Italy had cried enough to fill the Nile River. And sometimes he wondered… did Holy Roma cry just as much as he did when he left? When Holy Roma left… did he think these same things as Italy?

The more Italy had thought about it, the more it gave him a headache. Holy Roma… the boy he once loved is gone for good.

He had received news that he was dead from France a long time ago.

_Holy Roma was dead._

And for a while, _so was Italy_.

Italy had been like the living dead for so long. His eyes weren't cheerful, his mouth clamped tightly shut instead of spewing about pasta and siestas. His entire body had shut down.

He had lost his first love.

When you think about it, you think of your first love as something bittersweet. But in the end for most, that person is still alive. To have the very first person to make you feel like you touched the sky dead, _it kills._

Even if you are in a relationship. You can never forget the first person you ever loved.

Now, Italy had Germany. Germany was similar to Holy Roma: very kind and gentle with his ways, and also scary. Italy was glad to have Germany around.

But time and time again, Italy would think of his first love. He knows he'll never get over him, but has already accepted the facts and ways that Holy Roma was. And sometimes, Italy wonders if Holy Roma is looking after him, especially now that he was with Germany.

Though Holy Roma is now only a fond memory in Italy's mind, he would continue to live in Italy's heart…

* * *

><p><strong>*AN**: Short one-shot I felt like writing.

*disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia


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